


Giving in

by Lacertae



Series: Kinktoberfest 2018 [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Begging, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Nanites, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 12:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: Kinktober 2018 Day 02 - Reaper/Zenyatta





	Giving in

**Author's Note:**

> day two with another juicy ship...

**Day 02 –** ~~Ass Worship~~ | **Begging** | ~~Medical play~~ | ~~Watersports~~

“I feel,” Zenyatta murmurs, hand tightening, “that this is not sufficient.”

Reaper –Gabriel Reyes, somewhere under that mask of his– clenches down both hands into the cushions of the couch. Zenyatta can feel his muscles flex and tense as he tries, and somehow manages, to stay still. In his grip, Reaper’s cock gives a twitch, and his sensors flare up, feeling how it burns in his palm.

He keeps a steady grip on the base of Reaper’s cock. The position is not the best, as Zenyatta is sitting on his lap, legs splayed apart, but he does not move, thumb rubbing tiny circles under the base, and again the cock twitches in his grip.

“What… more do you even want?” Reaper’s voice is deep and rough, strained, a tiny line of anger bubbling under the surface, but Zenyatta is pleased to see he’s controlling himself, as much as he can. “I did not… hnnng– move.”

Zenyatta slides his hand up Reaper’s cock, slowly, skin hot to the touch, the lube he smeared on his fingers enough so the slide isn’t a painful burn –though he is aware that Reaper would not mind that. He pauses at the tip, and his other hand reaches down to press against Reaper’s neck, right below his mask. He can feel the flutter of his heart under his fingers, racing and erratic.

“No, you did not. You are rather good at following orders,” Zenyatta’s optical receptors trail down Reaper’s clothed chest, and he can feel the traitorous shudder that racks his body at the unexpected praise, the way his cock twitches again in his grip, tip leaking precum. Reaper hisses, quietly. “Keeping your hands away and not touching me… yes, indeed –you did not move.” He pauses for a moment, uses that time to circle the tip of Reaper’s cock with his thumb, smears his precum around, pushes into the foreskin until Reaper’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, teeth gritted under his mask and breathing harshly through them. “Yet, it is still not enough.”

Reaper growls –the sound splintering and vibrating into the air, aided by the way the nanomachines in his body buzz and threaten to split apart, the edges of his frame hazy into a cloud of them.

Zenyatta hums in answer, and his core blooms with golden light, Harmony spreading from him and to Reaper’s body. He sees Reaper shudder once, exhale loudly, but his frame returns to a state of solidity, even as his fingers grip down on the couch cushions with a little more strength.

Slowly, he continues to massage Reaper’s cock, tugging on the skin and running his thumb on the underside, following a thick vein until Reaper makes a strangled sound through his gritted teeth that sounds like a keen.

“Wh… what do you want?”

Zenyatta leans forwards, until his body falls against Reaper’s bigger frame, and nests his head in the crook of Reaper’s shoulder. The sudden contact makes Reaper freeze, but his cock gives another twitch in Zenyatta’s grasp, and his hips make a small, aborted motion.

This close, his sensors can register Reaper’s smell –dust and aftershave and sweat, and the scent of his leather clothes covering the metallic tang of his nanomachines. Zenyatta exhales an artificial breath, and his fingers tighten on Reaper’s cock enough that he bucks into him… yet, his arms remain planted on his sides, unmoving.

He appreciates that –his restraint, when Reaper could easily roll them both around and take Zenyatta hard against the couch. He appreciates that Reaper doesn’t try that… again. They both know Zenyatta is not as weak as he seems, but he does not enjoy having to use force to get what he wants, not when Reaper gains so much more if he behaves.

Nuzzling into his neck, Zenyatta tightens his hold on Reaper’s throat, but just barely, to feel his heart as it races. “You know what I want, do you… Gabriel?”

Reaper makes a noise –something deep and whiny, even as he bucks into Zenyatta’s hand, cock leaking more onto his fingers, making his motions even more slippery as he continues to jack him off slowly, far too slowly.

“You can’t expect me t–” Reaper chokes down on his words when Zenyatta’s hand stills, grip going lax. “ _You_ …”

A few painstakingly slow seconds roll by.

Zenyatta keeps his forehead pressed into Reaper’s neck, soaking into the man’s heat, in the way his cock burns in his hand, still as hard and thick as it was when they started, and waits.

He could wait forever, teasing Reaper until he is mindless, but he knows that he won’t have to wait all that long… not really.

“… please.”

Reaper’s voice is almost hesitant, lower than his growls from before, the edge less mechanic and more human. At his sides, his fists are clenched so hard into the cushions that his knuckles are probably white under his gloves, but his arms are shaking, minutely, as he gives in to what Zenyatta wants.

His forehead array brightens in a pleased smile.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, and his hand tightens again on Reaper’s cock, thumb pressing down hard against its base. “You deserve your reward, Gabriel.”

It does not take much –Reaper is keyed already, because of Zenyatta’s words, because of giving up to him, tense and taut and so close to coming, and Zenyatta’s hand is tight on his cock even as he uses Harmony again, golden light seeping into Reaper’s body as he continues to jack him off.

Reaper growls, moans deep in his throat and arches up into him, meeting Zenyatta’s motions with his own thrusts, fucking himself into his hand until he comes, hard and breathless, all over Zenyatta’s chest, ropes of white come splattered on his chassis and fingers.

Even then Zenyatta does not cease, milks him until Reaper is writhing on the couch, oversensitive and twitching in his hand, and even then he still doesn’t touch him, lets Zenyatta coax him into a second, sharper dry orgasm, even lets him slide his fingers lower to rub at his balls, and then lower, until every breath is a growl and his shoulders shake in strain and pleasure.

He knows there will be payback –Zenyatta can feel it in the way the shadows around them shift and move, nanomachines surging up, well fed on his Harmony, buzzing and alive– but he looks forwards to that.


End file.
